A Delicate Matter Read online

  “It could be that one of them told someone else,” Jack interrupted him. “It may take some time for us to find out.”

  “Wish I could find out right now,” Larry said bitterly.

  “We all do,” said Connie, “and believe me, we’ll do everything possible to catch the killer.”

  Jack pointed his finger at Larry’s face and spoke harshly. “You leave this to us! You hear me?”

  “Yeah … of course.”

  Chapter Eight

  At 8:30 a.m. Jack and Connie entered the monitoring room and listened to the call that Larry had made to Banjo, then to a call that Banjo made immediately afterwards to Carl Shepherd.

  “Who’s Shepherd?” Connie asked as the call began.

  “President of the Gypsy Devils,” Jack explained. “If it was Satans Wrath, there is no way a prospect would talk to the president direct. It shows how undisciplined this club really is.”

  They listened as Banjo told Shepherd about the call he received from Larry.

  “Fuck, another rip,” Shepherd responded. “Who the fuck’s doing it?”

  “If it’s the same ones,” Banjo growled, “this is the first time that someone’s been murdered. It could cause some heat.”

  “At least Larry was smart enough not to mention us,” Shepherd noted.

  “Yeah … but now what?”

  “Contact Neal and tell him to let his buddy know. There’s a possibility we may come up short.”

  “Hopefully the other three will have enough to cover it, but yeah, I’ll let Neal know.”

  “Also get a new phone. Did Larry call you on the one you’re using now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Keep it in case he calls, but in the future don’t talk business on it. Meet him in person if you need to. Also check and make sure he isn’t wired if you do.”

  “Figure Larry will rat?” Banjo asked.

  “Fuck, his brother was whacked,” Shepherd replied. “What if he thinks we were involved? Who knows what he’ll do?”

  “Yeah, guess it don’t hurt to be careful.”

  “Let’s hope the cops solve it quick,” Shepherd added before disconnecting.

  Jack looked at Connie. “So much for the GDs being involved.”

  “Also this isn’t the first rip,” Connie said. “When Shepherd said Neal needed to contact his buddy, I presume he was talking about someone in Satans Wrath, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, likely one of their prospects or maybe a full-patch member,” Jack replied, not wanting to divulge any more than he needed to in order to protect his informant.

  Connie nodded, then reached for her phone to take a call. When it was done she said, “That was one of my guys — Lyle Roster. He’s still at the scene. He said Forensics found a cellphone when the tide went out. Judging by the distance it was from shore and the height of the tide at the time, someone threw it.”

  “Dwayne’s phone. Did they find anything else? Keel marks from a boat, footprints, or the rock Dwayne used to strike their motor?”

  “Nothing. The dive team is still searching. Roster said Forensics sectioned off the shore into squares the size of floor mats when the tide was out. Usually when we say ‘no stone was left unturned,’ it’s just an expression. In this case it wasn’t. No sign of any stones with fresh scrapings or anything to indicate a rock had been used to bash a motor.”

  “What about elsewhere — up at the camp?”

  “They found a few footprints where the plants were growing, but nothing of value around the campsite.”

  “Those footprints will belong to Larry and Dwayne,” Jack said. “They’d already harvested the weed and put it into duffle bags at the campsite.”

  “Forensics will be there all day. Maybe something will turn up.”

  “Like a body,” Jack said grimly.

  “A body? Are you holding something back from me?” Connie asked suspiciously.

  “I’m referring to Dwayne,” Jack replied. “Come on, Connie, give me a break.”

  “Sorry. I’m so bloody tired I can’t think straight.”

  “Any thoughts on how you want to work this?” he asked. “Maybe let me focus on the bikers and you check for other possibilities?”

  “Christ, Jack, it’s me you’re talking to,” Connie replied in exasperation. “I don’t need any more bodies turning up — and I am thinking straight about that.”

  “Connie, I want whoever did it arrested as much as you.”

  “Arrested? I know you. Having one of your informants murdered — you take this personal.”

  “You’re damn right I do. Larry was actually my informant, but Dwayne … well, I guess he was my informant, too. He was trying to be one of the good guys and was calling me for help.” He grimaced. “It’s eating away at me that I should’ve done something different. Maybe arrested them both to start with. I don’t know.” He met Connie’s gaze. “Of course I want the case solved. I’m a police officer. Not some lunatic looking to kill someone.”

  “Maybe so, but I want you to stay out of the investigation,” she said forcefully.

  Jack suppressed his emotions. In his heart he knew she was right and gave a nod of agreement. “I understand. Defence would claim I was biased because of some sort of personal rage. They’d imply that I tampered with the evidence and was lying about whatever testimony I gave.”

  “You’re damn right they would, which is why you can’t be involved.”

  “Still, I’ve got these wiretaps,” Jack said. “I told you I didn’t think the bikers were involved. The call between Shepherd and Banjo proves it. I’m not dropping the biker investigation.”

  Connie was silent.

  “What’re you thinking?” Jack asked.

  “That I haven’t been to bed in twenty-six hours. I’m going back to the office, do a quick report, and assign day shift to work on it. Then I’m going home and starting fresh tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jack agreed.

  “How about we meet tomorrow morning at ten o’clock with our bosses to update everyone in person and discuss the matter?” Connie suggested.

  “To have me put in my place,” Jack replied. “Sure, if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Connie snorted. “I’d only feel better if you were assigned to highway patrol — and even then I’d wonder every time a body turned up alongside the highway.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jack returned to the office and met up with Laura, after which they went to Staff Sergeant Rose Wood’s office. Laura had already briefed Rose up to the point where Jack had gone with Connie to the hospital, but Rose wanted to hear it again from Jack, starting at the beginning.

  Lack of sleep coupled with feelings of depression and anger caused Jack to rephrase and repeat his words a few times, but Rose got a clear picture.

  “So what do you plan to do?” she asked.

  “Carry on as before,” Jack replied.

  “I’ve seen how you’ve carried on before,” Rose said quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve never lost an informant before, have you?” Rose asked.

  “Never.”

  “It shows — and you know what I mean. I don’t want you taking the law into your own hands.”

  “You sound like Connie.” Jack was exasperated. “I went over the same thing with her. It’s her case — I know that. I’ll stick to working on the bikers and leave Dwayne to her.”

  “Swear to God?”

  Jack allowed his anger to spill out in his voice. “You know I’m an atheist. What’re you doing, testing to see how truthful I’m being?”

  Rose stared at him. “Yes … and I’m sorry. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. You need to settle down and get your mind focused.”

  Jack glared in response, but realized he c
ouldn’t deny what she said. “I am tired,” he admitted. “I’ll go home, but first I should call Sammy in Drug Section to let him know, in case anything else comes in on the wire.”

  “Swear on a three-olive martini that you’ll go home?” Rose asked.

  Jack gave a lopsided grin as he stood up. “Swearing on that means more to me than some Bible.”

  “Out of curiosity, have you ever even read the Bible?”

  “Nah, I’m more of a non-fiction kind of reader.”

  Jack returned to his desk and called Sammy. He told him how he and Laura had turned Larry and Dwayne into informants and the details of Dwayne’s call to Jack.

  “Man, what a horrible thing to hear,” Sammy said sombrely. “What do you want me to do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do as far as Dwayne goes,” Jack replied. “That’ll be up to Connie.” At least, for now.

  “We were going to set up on Banjo later today,” Sammy said.

  “Good. The GDs should be picking up weed from two other grow-ops tonight. Banjo will be involved, along with the other two prospects, Kyle Fennel and Arnold Hoster.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got their pictures from the reports you gave me.”

  “It’d be nice to discover where they press it and brick up,” Jack said.

  “For sure. Later on, if we could get video and audio in the place, it’d make for strong evidence. I also want to get a sample of the dope before it leaves, but so far it doesn’t look good. Either Bob or Roxie or both have been staying close to home. Neal comes and goes at all hours. What with their dog, I doubt we’ll get into the truck.”

  “Maybe you’ll have more luck with the prospects,” Jack said. “In the meantime I need to get some sleep. If anything interesting happens, give me a call.”

  “Will do — and Jack, I’m sorry about Dwayne. I know you’re really protective of your sources. All I can say is … well, shit happens. It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could’ve done different.”

  “It’ll bother me a lot less when I find out who did it — and justice is served.”

  After arriving home late in the afternoon, Jack forced himself to stay awake until after dinner. An hour later he was brushing his teeth in preparation for bed when his phone vibrated.

  It was Mack Cockerill. “What’s happening?” he asked nervously. “I heard someone ripped off Larry’s grow-op and whacked his brother.”

  “I heard,” Jack said. “Homicide contacted me because I had an alert on the computer for me to be notified if Larry was ever checked.”

  “I didn’t know he had a brother,” Cockerill said.

  “Likewise,” Jack replied.

  “You can still watch the truck. The GDs are actin’ a little paranoid, though. Neal said he’s gonna run whatever they brick up tonight over to Bob, then do the next run tomorrow — so everything’s still a go. Sounds like there’s still lots to make up for what was taken.” Cockerill hesitated a moment, then said, “You’re quiet. This doesn’t change anything, does it?”

  “A murder taking place does put a different spin on things.”

  “That ain’t my fault! I didn’t know that —”

  “Relax,” Jack interjected. “I’m not blaming you as long as you’re straight with me.”

  “I’ve been straight,” Cockerill insisted. “Tellin’ you everything.”

  “I’m talking about you telling me what’s going on with your own club. You think you’re the only Satans Wrath talking?” Cockerill was the only informant Jack had in Satans Wrath, but if Cockerill believed someone else was talking, it would help ensure that he told Jack the truth and kept him up-to-date. On a psychological level, it would also ease the guy’s conscience to think someone besides him was disloyal to the club.

  Cockerill appeared to mull over what Jack said. “I didn’t think talking about my own club was part of the deal.”

  “And I didn’t think that a guy in the grow-op you gave me would be murdered. Makes me wonder if you were trying to prevent me from doing my job.”

  “I had nothing to do with it! Fuck, I want this done and over.”

  “It’ll be over when I say it’s over. Keep me in the loop about everything … and I mean everything. Which means about your club, too.”

  “Yeah, but my club wasn’t part of the deal!”

  “Neither was murder,” Jack said angrily. “When someone is arrested for it, then we’ll talk about whether or not we’re even. In the meantime I want to know who did the rip and what you guys are doing about it.”

  “We got no suspects at the moment,” Cockerill replied. “Ain’t nothin’ for us to do.”

  “If I hear of something that you should’ve told me, I’ll do more than burn you to the media.”

  “Okay, okay.” Jack could hear the sudden fear in Cockerill’s voice. “I’ll keep my ears open. No need to get all pissed off. It don’t change nothin’ as far as the truck goes. We got lots of weed to make up the difference. It’ll still be packin’ two-fifty down to Dallas.”

  “Good.”

  “I still think you’d be better off to take ’em down at the border,” Cockerill added. “They’d never suspect me.”

  “It’s not only your skin I have to worry about.” Jack didn’t want to let Cockerill know that his real plan was to get evidence on Satans Wrath. “Like I said, you’re not the only guy talking to me, so don’t even go there. How did you find out about Larry’s brother being murdered?”

  “I found out ’cause Larry called the GDs. Neal then told Buck, who told me. Apparently three guys showed up to do the rip and shot his brother. Larry was in the hospital at the time with a ruptured appendix and his brother was on the phone to him when it happened. He heard everything and called the cops.”

  “What did you do after Buck told you?” Jack asked.

  “Passed it up the ladder to the chapter prez.”

  “Lance Morgan,” Jack noted.

  “Yeah. He’s really pissed. We had two grow-ops ripped last year. Word is that other grow-ops have also been ripped.”

  “You think it’s the same guys?”

  “We don’t know. At one rip, three guys were seen, but the other rip happened when nobody was around. At one time we wondered if it was the GDs rippin’ us off.”

  “I don’t see the GDs having the balls to rip you guys off,” Jack said, “although they’re pretty stupid.”

  “That’s exactly what Lance said. We think whoever did it doesn’t know it was our stuff. They’ll pay big time if we find out.”

  “So it was only Lance you met with? Damien didn’t show up?”

  “Nah, no way the national prez would ever talk about somethin’ like that in front of me.”

  “Even over this? You’re full-patch. Doesn’t he trust you?”

  “Fuck, I was surprised that Lance let me talk to him about it. I went through the sergeant-at-arms first. The only reason Lance met me face to face is because I’m the only full-patch assigned to act as a go-between with the GDs. Buck deals with ’em, too, but he’s still a prospect, and even though he’s Damien’s son, he still isn’t allowed to talk to the prez direct about anything. He’s gotta follow the rules like anyone else.”

  “Any thoughts as to what’ll happen if your club finds out who the three guys are? Will it be physical retribution — or cash payback with interest?”

  “Dunno, but am inclined to think they’d be joining Larry’s brother.”

  I’ll keep that in mind.

  Jack placed a quick call to Sammy to tell him that Neal would be picking up whatever marijuana was bricked up tonight and then meeting with Bob to stash it in the semi.

  “Perfect,” Sammy said. “I’ll divide the team. Half will continue watching Banjo and the other half will sit on Neal’s and Bob’s place. If we lose one, it’ll give us a second chance.”

 
“Neal prides himself on his surveillance-detection ability,” Jack warned.

  “The acreage they live on is down some backwater road in Delta,” Sammy replied, “but eventually these roads funnel out to a main artery where there’s more traffic. I’ll have my guys watch from there. Worse comes to worst, we’ll let him go rather than heat him up. Besides, we still have tomorrow night.”

  “Sounds good. Happy hunting.” Jack hung up and climbed into bed. It was seven-thirty in the evening and he was exhausted. But as he lay there, the sound of the gunshot and Dwayne’s plea for help kept replaying in his head, along with the shot that followed.

  What should I have done different? Let them keep the shotgun for protection? What if they’d then killed some innocent schmuck … maybe I should’ve arrested them both … would it have changed the course of the investigation? Dwayne, I’m sorry.

  Four hours later he was still awake and frustrated that he couldn’t seem to stop rehashing the events over and over again. He knew he was in desperate need of sleep.

  Tomorrow is going to be another long day.

  Chapter Ten

  Assistant Commissioner Isaac was the Operations Officer in charge of the RCMP Pacific Command. He was reading the report from I-HIT — the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team — concerning the murder of Dwayne Beggs. The mention of Jack Taggart’s involvement with the victim caught his attention.

  Isaac sighed, then looked at his desk calendar and flipped over a page to view the following month. Sunday, October twelfth, was circled in red. That was when he’d have done thirty-five years of service. He’d submitted his retirement papers to make it his last official day. Briefly he brooded about his replacement. Ralphy Mortimer. Can’t believe they promoted that pudgy little man to Assistant Commissioner. Guess being a sycophant in Ottawa does have its rewards.

  He returned his attention to the report from I-HIT. Taggart — how many investigations has he been involved in where suspected murderers died before ever going to court? Some were self-defence … but others? Written off to coincidences? He shook his head in wonder. All these years and I still don’t know … is he a saint or a sinner? One thing for certain, he’s not coming near this investigation.